He blinks, but it’s slow. Coming back to now, “I don’t know how—”
“Why’d you do it?” I accuse, cutting him off. Never losing my fire. “You’ve never had a problem with tossing cash around before. What wassoimportant about this one item that you justhadto have it? Why?” I wheeze out my anger, accusatory. “Why, Abram?”
He pushes from his chair, rising. His emotions flipping faster than the tires of a car on a patch of ice. Abram’s eyes are ablaze even as his shoulders shake.
“I have been lenient with you because of our history, Rory, but I will not continue to let you speak to me in such a degrading way. You can leave, calm down, andthenwhen you come back, we can have a rational conversation as adults.”
I breathe past my nose. Nostrils flaring as I push away, spinning on my heel.
“Why. Was. This. Important?” I grit through clenched teeth. Each drilled word is followed by a step closer to the desk with the same intensity.
“Rory—”
Both our heads whip to the side, hearing the same earsplitting, loud crash of noise somewhere past his office.
Abram’s hand shoots out in warning. Already rounding his desk, he says, “Stay here, don’t move. I’ll go check it out.” Each step more urgent than the last.
His concern toward me shifts, completely overshadowing the apprehension of our argument. Leaving to go track down the noise that had made the frames on the door rattle in its wake.
My hand is on the knob, ready to follow, when something tugs at my chest at the last possible second. Turning back, I make quick strides to his desk. My intention to take back my book.
Abram may have stolen it, but it’s still mine.
I’m about to touch it when my hand shifts diagonally toward the papers he’d turned over earlier. I don’t know why they move in that direction; they just do.
Before I can think about what I’m doing, they’re already flipped back over, and my eyes are skimming. It’s some sort of report, but it’s an unusual one. Not something I’d assume Abram to have for Hardin.
More scanning.
I don’t really understand what I’m looking at until I see three letters. Bold and in thick black ink on the last page.
It’s an acronym for a test, but that doesn’t stop the way my chest locks and my lungs freeze, realizing what this is. My eyes move faster now, going to the very bottom.
I can’t move, my lids widen before flaring, remaining stuck to that one spot like glue to a splinter. I clench my lips over my teeth, opening my mouth, trying to give my screaming lungs something, but it’s no use.
It’s too late, I’ve already seen. I know the truth.
My mind races, at least that one thing is still working. How long has Abram known? Not long is my guess if he’s looking at these now. I doubt you’d keep something like this sitting around for anyone to find.
He hadn’t, you snooped,my brain reminds me.
I pull away, stung like I’d been bitten. I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have peeped through his things. I regret ever seeing this.
My eyes throb with unshed tears as anguish and guilt wash over me. This one thing could change everything. Itdoeschange everything. More secrets to my already building web of lies.
Why’d I meddle?
This can’t be true.
My lids close, willing myself to forget. Wishing I could unsee it all. Those numbers, as close to a hundred as humanly possible, not lying.
It’s not fair. One small confession, one slipup, and another’s entire being can change, shifting their entire life’s course.
It’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair. It’s not.
It’s not fair!
I take a step and another and then another and before I know it, my back’s pressed to the door. Blindly, my hands move, finding the handle.